Home Is Where the Heart Is

Home Is Where the Heart Is by Freda Lightfoot Page B

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Authors: Freda Lightfoot
five-year-old. ‘She was clearly taking advantage of your offer to get herself out of a hole of her own making. How dare she cheat on you! The chit obviously had no idea how fortunate she was to find such a fine young man as yourself. Who is this other fellow, anyway?’
    ‘An old friend of many years, apparently,’ Alex growled, making no mention of the fact that he’d lost count of the number of times he too had cheated on Cathie over these last few years. Leave wasn’t easy to come by out in the desert, but whenever he was granted any he would go to Cairo and spend his money on booze and brothels to offset his boredom.
    He’d become so accustomed to that way of life, he’d done the same thing when he first returned home and was stationed near Salisbury. That was where he met a certainyoung lady. She was so beautiful that he soon become entirely besotted with her. The fact she was a ‘good-time girl’, or in reality probably a prostitute, didn’t trouble him in the slightest. Keeping servicemen happy was her role in life, and it was perfectly acceptable for them to befriend girls when on leave. However, complete fidelity was naturally expected from wives and sweethearts. Ordinary women should be loyal to their man. That was their job, so Cathie had no right to betray him. But perhaps all women were whores at heart. ‘May he rot in hell for stealing my girl,’ he growled.
    ‘I should think you are better off without her, darling. Having an illegitimate child is almost as bad as prostitution. Quite shameful and immoral, and would bring disgrace to our family.’
    ‘So what are your plans for the future?’ his father put in, in that authoritative tone of voice that always set Alex’s teeth on edge. ‘You must have acquired some skills while serving abroad, what were they exactly? Hopefully they will help you to find a new job, as you never stayed in one longer than five minutes when you were a lad.’
    Alex had always felt unappreciated by his parents, in particular his father. If they ever found out what he really got up to during the war, their attitude would be even worse. Providing the proof that he’d suffered a taxing war was virtually impossible. His work at the front line had been very much that of a back-room lad. A part of him resented the fact the army had adopted such a low opinionof him that he was placed in the mess tent. Yet in the end he came to believe himself fortunate to have enjoyed an easy war, despite being sent overseas.
    But if his imposing father ever discovered that he’d been trained as a cook and worked in the Army Catering Corps, Alex thought it unlikely he would ever speak to him again. The suitably named Victor constantly threatened to disinherit his only son if he didn’t achieve his required standards. As a consequence, Alex kept these facts to himself, not wishing it to be known that he’d held such a lowly job, which would be viewed with contempt.
    Even now, Victor was addressing him with contempt. ‘It’s quite clear to me from your tan that you did very little, other than spending too much time sunbathing.’
    ‘I was living in sunny climes, and I’m afraid mum’s the word, as they say,’ Alex replied with a scathing smile, having no wish to admit he’d sweated out the war in a tented kitchen. Fortunately, keeping quiet about war work was perfectly acceptable, even rather liberating. ‘As for the future, I’m making the necessary enquiries, and keeping an eye out for a job. I hope to have found one by the time my demobilisation leave is over.’
    ‘There are training courses available in various skills,’ Victor reminded his son, ‘although they do tend to have more applications than places available, so you need to look sharp about it.’
    Alex realised that new skills might indeed need to be developed in order to find employment. He certainly had nowish to continue working as a cook. But after a childhood ruled by a controlling, arrogant father who thought

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